


Dissatisfied

by The Little MerBucky (blue_pointer)



Series: Death Comes Calling [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bisexual Tony Stark, Breakfast, Dark Fantasy, Detectives, Grief/Mourning, Hacking, Horror, Masturbation, Multi, New York City, Pepperony - Freeform, Sexual Fantasy, Shopping, Spa Treatments, Stalking, Stucky - Freeform, Thriller, TonyXBucky - Freeform, Tuxedos, Unhealthy Relationships, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Steve Rogers, Vampires, low-key on fire, relationship drama, the I'm sorry date, tonyxpepper - Freeform, vampire breakfast, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/The%20Little%20MerBucky
Summary: When a mysterious figure leaves Tony a creepy message, Tony launches into detective mode to try and track down the culprit. Then it's time for Pepper. Lots of Pepper. Too much, really. Afterwards, Tony goes back to researching the mysterious messenger. Because it beats going to a charity function that reminds him of his mom.When Steve realizes Bucky's patience with him is wearing thin, it's time to take his fella out on a date. To a charity benefit? That's one way to get Tony there in a hurry.





	Dissatisfied

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This fic _does_ mention actual dead pets (past tense). Read with caution.

Of course the note was ridiculous. Tony’s anxiety over it only lasted a few seconds. Then he went right to the phone. “Very funny, sweetcheeks. But you know, if you missed me, you could have just knocked.”

It was 6am. “What?” From the gravelly sound of Rhodey’s voice, and his general incoherence, he was pretending to have been asleep before Tony called.

“Right, I’m sure. I just woke you up. Next you’re gonna tell me you’re still in Boston.”

“Tony, is there a reason you’re calling me at this ungodly hour to talk nonsense? Because I was up all night cramming, and I don’t--”

Tony started to feel cold in the pit of his stomach. “Wait, you really are there, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m here. And there’s a test in Robotics today. Tony. What’s happening? Are you in trouble? Do you need me to come down there?”

Tony switched gears immediately. “Nope, never better. You be sure to ace that test today, or I’ll tell everyone you only ever got good grades because of me.”

“You wish, Tony.” But his tone was borderline suspicious. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to call Jarvis to find out?”

“Jarvis won’t tell you anything,” Tony said, hurriedly. And then, because he realized how suspicious that sounded, “Because there’s nothing to tell, platypus. You go back to sleep.”

“No way, Tony. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing!” Tony hurriedly said goodbye before Rhodey could ask any more questions. “Love you!” After he’d hung up, Tony stared at the phone, accusingly. _Love you?_ What the hell had possessed him to say that? Tony left the phone in a potted plant as punishment.

Rhodey did not call back. He really must have been tired. But Tony couldn’t worry about that right now. It was time to put his detective hat on. He headed to his workshop. “Jarvis, tell me there’s footage of the turkey who left that note this morning.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Roll it.” Tony bent over the screen, watching as someone who clearly did not want to be recognized skulked up to the door in full Carmen Sandiego costume and shoved the note underneath. It wasn’t a very good disguise. All the same, Tony had to watch it a few times before he could place the face. “Batman?”

“I’m afraid so, Sir. I might caution you against bringing strangers home in the future, but you’ve never heeded my warnings on this subject in the past.”

“You know I care about everything you have to say,” Tony told it.

“The affectionate language you use to disregard my warnings warms my heart, Sir.”

“Okay, good talk. That’s enough therapy for today. Let’s take a look at the traffic cameras and see where he went afterwards.”

“Sir, I feel I should warn you that hacking into the city’s traffic cameras is a felony.”

“Only if they catch me,” Tony said, fingers typing furiously as he gracefully slipped in the back door he’d left in the city’s firewall. “Is it me, or is he smoking?”

“There does appear to be a subtle mist surrounding him.”

“Only I don’t see a cigarette or a vaper.”

“Neither do I, Sir.” Tony squinted at the footage. It was such poor quality. Maybe it was the product of the grainy picture. But it seriously looked like the guy was low-key on fire. Tony rubbed his eyes. Maybe sleep wasn’t such a bad idea.

“This is where the trail ends?” He pulled up the address of the hotel on his virtual grid of the city.

“There seems to be no one similar exiting the hotel up to the current time stamp, Sir.”

“Great. We’re gonna take a little field trip.”

“Is that wise, Sir?”

“No. Maybe. Since when did that ever stop me?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Sir.”

Tony took the stairs down to the garage. Chose one of the less flashy cars. Of course, that was still a burgundy A5. He was tempted to hack the traffic lights to get him there faster, but morning traffic was so heavy, he doubted it would have helped anyway. He pulled into the fire zone right in front of the hotel's entrance and shut off the engine. “Excuse me.” Tony found it was best to hit the ground running. “Can you tell me where the manager is?” he asked one startled man vacuuming the floor. “Do you have a lost and found?” He pointed at the concierge desk, but of course Tony was already headed in that direction.

“Hi.” He smiled at the woman behind the front desk, but not too much. “Are you the manager? I have a complaint, and I’d like to speak to the manager.”

He watched the light in her eyes slowly die. “I’m happy to take your complaint, Sir.”

“See, the thing is, I left something very valuable in my hotel room last week. It had my name in it and everything, but I never got notified that it had been found. I’m sorry, maybe I should speak with the manager after all. Is he here today?”

The desk attendant was ruffled enough by his disbelief in her authority that she insisted on helping him herself, eventually leaving the desk to search their lost and found for Tony’s imaginary briefcase. Meanwhile, he plugged a handy little device into the check-in computer’s USB, and took a look through their guest registry.

It was easy enough to see which one was his guy. Who checked into a hotel at 6am? Unless he’d stayed overnight, but Tony just had a feeling. “Alright, Sam Wilson of room 237. You’re about to get a surprise visit from yours truly.” He unplugged and left the desk before the clerk returned.

As he headed upstairs, Tony’s watch rang. “Sir, is this really a good idea?”

“Oh, hi, Mom. Can’t talk now, confronting stalkers.” He cut off and blocked the connection. Tony couldn’t say why he wasn’t scared, really. But he wasn’t. Maybe this was Batman’s way of getting his attention. He hadn’t checked the note for a phone number written in invisible ink or anything. But why be coy? Then again, he’d certainly gotten Tony’s attention a lot better this way.

The door to room 237 was ajar. Tony started to be excited about this, but then he realized. The maid service sign was up. “So was I the last stop on your trip?” he asked out loud. “Or the first?” He entered the room anyway, because the maid hadn't been in yet. The bed was rumpled, but there was nothing in the trash, nothing left behind but used towels on the bathroom floor.

Frustrated, Tony crawled into the bed, lay down. On a whim, he sniffed the pillows. Nothing but the clean linen scent of decent hotel sheets with perhaps a faint scent of burned toast. Room service, maybe, before he'd left?

Tony lay back and sighed. He hated dead ends. He turned his communicator back on. “Sir, Miss Potts is here, and she’s a bit unhappy with you.”

“Aw, fork.” He'd forgotten all about the spa day he'd promised Pepper. “Tell her I'll meet her at Macy's for brunch?”

“Very good, Sir. And may I recommend a change of clothes is in order? Unless you've somehow changed in the hotel.”

Tony plucked at the AC/DC shirt he'd had on since the last time he'd slept which was...he actually wasn't sure. But his fingers and toes were starting to get that tingly feeling that presaged sleepiness for him. And the bed was so soft… If he used his imagination, he could still feel the residual warmth, the dip left in the mattress by the body of his night visitor. Tony hopped up quickly, pulled the service sign and shut the door. If he'd checked in this morning, that meant the room was paid for for the day. And there was no sense letting it go to waste, right?

Feeling a little excited, a little naughty, a little creepy, Tony crawled back into bed. He was already halfway there, and when he pulled the thin hotel blankets up to his chest and pushed his waistband down, it was full liftoff. His hand moved swiftly under the starched sheet, hips thrusting into his fist.

Why was he doing this? Why was he so turned-on at lying in the bed of this...stalker? But there was something...a smell, a feeling...he couldn’t quite pinpoint. His groin was on fire, and he had to quench the flames.

But then, Tony really started to think about it. And the more he thought about it, the more creeped-out he got. This was weird even for him. Sure, he was horny as all get-out right now, but he had a whole house of his own to do this in. A clean, safe place he knew that had nothing to do with the strange man from two nights ago. A man who, if he really thought about it, Tony couldn’t even remember that well (the drawbacks to heavy drinking).

He sighed, taking his hand off his dick. This was stupid. He needed to get himself together. Get out of here. Stop thinking about that weirdo. Maybe his boner would give up. And if not, well. Pepper. Pepper was waiting for him. He turned the link back on. “J, have my personal shopper grab me an Armani and have it ready when I get there in 30.”

“Of course, Sir. Miss Potts has just left, so she’ll be waiting.”

“Yeah, what else is new,” Tony muttered.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Are you feeling quite well?”

“Never better,” Tony answered without even considering the question. But he wasn’t. He never was anymore.

 

*

 

After brunch, they’d done some shopping--to punish Tony for being late, Pepper said--and then headed over to the Red Door for the works. In her usual fashion, Pepper alternately teased and held him at arm’s length all day, so Tony was more than ready by the time they got back to the house that afternoon.

“Tony, my make-up!” she complained.

“We’ll get it re-done. There’s time.”

“But it took them two hours to get my hair like this.”

“I won’t touch your hair. Cross my heart.”

At first, she was having none of it. But Tony knew Pepper. Maybe not her food allergies or her favourite flower, but he knew how to get what he wanted. And after a bottle of champagne and a shoe fitting she had not been expecting, Tony was finally able to sweet-talk her into spreading her legs for him. There was nothing romantic about it, though of course Tony did his best to create that illusion for her; she needed it. What he needed was some sweet friction and to blow his load with a pair of slender, welcoming arms wrapped around him.  

“Wait--stop,” she told him, when they were just getting to the good bit. “I find it seriously troubling that you still won’t wear a condom, Tony. You’re far too promiscuous to still be playing that game.”

“Okay--no, you’re right. You’re right, sweetheart. I’ll do it. For you, I’ll do it.” He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled one out at random. “See? I have one right here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, which looked less intimidating with her perky breasts pointed at him.  “But you admit you don’t do it normally.”

“I admit nothing,” Tony said, expertly pinching the tip and rolling it on in one try. “Now come on, honey. I’ve missed this...so much.”

“Tony, don’t think you can just--”

“Hmmm?” Tony looked up from sucking her neck, but Pepper didn’t seem to want to continue. She was a strictly no talking during sex partner. Her muscles tightened around him, and Tony went to town, exorcising his sexual frustration and then some. It was a shame Pepper was so vanilla, but given his emergency state this morning, she would do in a pinch.

After, Pepper showered and returned to the spa to be re-made, and Tony puttered around the workshop in his tux, tie undone. “Feeling better, Sir?” Jarvis asked, in that judgmental tone Tony had programmed him to use after he’d spent his time irresponsibly--a.k.a., having sex.

“Not really,” Tony admitted, realizing how tired he was from the fact he'd been honest. At least it was just Jarvis. AI’s you could trust. Humans, on the other hand...

“I trust your search for Batman, was unsuccessful?” Jarvis said.

“Scratch that,” Tony said. “Batman's real name is Sam Wilson.” If he'd actually used his real name... "And yeah, no soap."

“How disappointing,” Jarvis commiserated. “Although, if his primary goal was in fact to leave you that anonymous message, it seems logical that he wouldn't have remained so close by.”

“But why check into the hotel at all?” Tony wondered. “Why not just go home?”

“Perhaps to leave a dead end, Sir. After all, he seems to have been successful.”

“I'll take that as a challenge,” Tony said.

“I thought as much, Sir.”

Tony was still reviewing the list of the 100 Sam Wilsons registered as property owners in New York City when Jarvis interrupted. “It's Miss Potts, Sir; I’m afraid she's quite insistent.”

“All right, put her on.”

It was her shrill voice, so already Tony knew he was in trouble. “Tony, where are you? We were supposed to be there at 6. You realize you can't be late to a benefit you’re hosting. You remember you’re hosting, right?”

“On my way," Tony told her, and hung up. How Pepper could think he’d forgotten he was hosting this benefit when it was the only charity dinner he'd attended, much less thrown, since his parents’ death said something about her faith in him. Of course his mystery man wasn't the only reason he was late. Tony was dragging his feet, stalling the inevitable devastation he would feel at officially taking over his mother's charity. Just another reminder of her absence and the world's cruel insistence that he move on.

“Maybe I won't go,” he said suddenly. “Maybe I'll blow another chance with Pep and just disappear for awhile.” No one would be surprised if Tony disappeared suddenly. He’d done it before. His rap sheet was already full of instances where he’d disappeared for weeks only to turn up, squatting with the other junkies in some drug house or other.  No one would be surprised if it happened again, and it would give Tony a break.

“I strongly recommend against that, Sir,” Jarvis said.

“You would.”

“If I may intrude upon your suicidal thoughts for a moment, I believe this may interest you.”

Tony looked up. Distractions were always good. “Did you find something on Wilson?”

“In a manner of speaking, Sir." A monitor on the far wall flashed an evening news story, some talking head commentator jawing on about the bigwigs and celebrities going to the benefit for his mom's charity.

“This a guilt trip?” Tony asked Jarvis, suspicious.

“I wouldn't presume, Sir. Did you notice?”

“Notice what?” Tony knew he was off his game if Jarvis had to point out a detail he’d just watched.

“I'll play it again.” The footage rewound, the reporter in her knockoff Donna Karen and studio hair talking about which guests were walking backward into their cars. “Wait!” Tony was pointing at the screen before he could find the words. “That’s him! He's there! --wait, why is he there?”

“An excellent question, Sir.”

 

*

 

Bucky awoke that morning to Steve sucking his wrist. “You hungry, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand.

Steve just nodded, not wanting to let go, at first. “You taste funny,” he said, and Bucky had to work to keep his pulse steady. “Like...clean laundry.”

Bucky reached out to brush his fingers through Steve's fluffy fringe over his ears. “Sorry, baby, I tried doing laundry again after you went to bed last night.”

Steve snorted to show this was ridiculous.

“You're right, Stevie. I know. Anyway, the soap smell was too strong, so I threw the clothes away. Guess the smell stayed on my skin.” And what a ridiculously long cover story that was. But they usually worked.

“Don't do that again, Buck,” Steve said, licking his wrist closed.

“Oh, I'm giving up on laundry for a while,” Bucky told him. “Don't worry.”

Steve got up, then, pushing the trap door open and climbing out. “Get the box at the door,” he told Bucky cryptically, and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Bucky grabbed a robe and headed up the stairs to the front door. Sure enough, there were two long, flat boxes outside. Bucky brought them in and went to the kitchen to make tea, setting them on the breakfast table. With no further instructions forthcoming from Steve, who was in the shower from the sound of it, Bucky set about making breakfast. He started a pot of coffee in case Steve wanted it. He didn't always, but woe betide Bucky for not having one prepared if Steve happened to want it.

By the time Steve arrived in the kitchen, pink and squeaky clean, Bucky was just finishing his breakfast hash: two pounds of corned beef with hash browns, fried in beef fat, just the way Steve liked it. Bucky handed him his glass of raw eggs, which Steve dutifully drank while he served his food. Steve looked awkwardly at his heaping plate for a moment. “I love you, Bucky,” he declared unexpectedly, as though the hash had reminded him.

“I love you too, Stevie.” Bucky ruffled his hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. He poured both coffee and tea, setting them at Steve's elbow before taking a seat himself with a glass of chicken blood.

No sooner had Bucky taken a sip and set the glass down than Steve knocked it off the table in a fit of choler. “ **No** , Buck. I don't like it. I'm not drinking it from you later. No animal blood.”

Bucky sighed, standing up to get the mop and a towel. It was no use trying to explain to Steve that the only reason he was drinking dead blood this morning was that he was still recovering from his fatal injuries two nights ago. Steve wanted what he wanted.

“Unless it's the neighbors’ dog,” Steve added. “Then it’s okay.”

Bucky sighed. “Stevie, you gotta stop killing the neighbors’ dogs.” It was getting to be a serious problem. “They brought it up at last month's neighborhood watch meeting.”

Steve giggled at the idea of a neighborhood watch in his territory. Also the fact he’d upset the neighbors so much they were trying to enlist other neighbors for help to investigate his little killing spree.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky's tone was disappointed. “That’s five last month. These poor people are going to stop adopting pets.”

“Good!” Steve said, shoveling a large mouthful of food. “Serves ‘em right! Stupid little yappy dogs, barking all day, keeping me up.”

“The Johnsons' great dane never made a sound,” Bucky pointed out

“He looked at me once!” Steve said.

Trying his best not to feel, Bucky just shook his head.

“Anyway, why can't people adopt quiet pets, like cats?” This seemed to jog his memory. “Princess. Here, Princess!” He lowered a fork full of hash to the floor, expecting the cat to come running. “Buck, where is Princess? She always comes when you call her. Why won't she come?”

Bucky turned toward the sink, telling himself it didn't matter. “You ate her, Steve,” he said, voice flat. “Two years ago.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, thoughtful, popping the fork full of food into his mouth. “Sorry.” But he didn't sound very sorry. “She was a good cat.”

“Yes she was.” The white Persian their across the street neighbors had abandoned was one of the most docile creatures Bucky had ever seen. She hadn't even been particularly scared of Steve.

“We should get another one,” Steve chirped.

“No.” This was not an argument he wanted to have today.

Steve looked up from his breakfast. “Buck, are you mad at me?”

He took a deep breath. “No. I'm just sad.”

Steve rose from the table and walked over to the sink, wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind. He kissed Bucky's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Buck,” he said. “Sorry I'm so bad.” He stroked Bucky's back. “I don't mean to make you sad.” He rubbed his cheek against Bucky's arm.

“I know,” Bucky said.

“Hug me?” Steve asked, and Bucky turned to wrap one arm around him. Steve burrowed in like a blond chinchilla, hugging Bucky tight around the waist. He looked up, resting his chin on Bucky's chest when he met his eyes. “You deserve somethin nice, Buck.”

Bucky didn't like the sound of that. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“No, I'm serious.” He took one of Bucky's hands. “You put up with a lot, and you always take care of me, no matter what.” Bucky didn't know what to say to that. He just stroked Steve's hair back from his face. “Did you open the boxes?” Steve asked

“Nope.” That was a test he could easily pass after the first time. “They’re addressed to you, aren't they?”

“Yup.” Steve gave him a gentle smack on the rump. “Go shower. I'm taking you out tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why Bucky shows up on digital film, please google smarter metas than I can attempt to write explaining how the use of silver in old mirrors and film were actually what prevented vampires' images from being reflected/captured. Modern technology doesn't suffer from these defects.


End file.
